What is Meant to Be
by Lady Laur
Summary: Glorfindel and Erestor have a conversation about the way people think things are meant to be, including them being together. And all around them, things break the little stereotypes we grew used to.


**_Title:_** What Is Meant to Be

**_Author:_** Laur Melyanna

**_Disclaimer:_** If it were mine, I wouldn't have a disclaimer. Ha! blush

**_Summary:_** Glorfindel and Erestor have a conversation about the way people think things are meant to be, including them being together. And all around them, things break the little stereotypes we grew used to.

**_Notes:_** This is silly, and it has no quality to the writing. It is not supposed to. It is supposed to be a light hearted banter focused on dialogue rather than flowing script. So, I hope you enjoy with that in mind.

**This** came out, I think, from a discussion on the Lindir Group as to why so many think Lindir is white haired, or a minstrel, or Erestor aloof etc. Talking about the ability we have to build these characters almost freely, but yet stay a bit tied to the 'common place' we establish as a community.

Thanks for the help Nikki.

They sat beside one another contemplating the afternoon from their perch under a tree. The dark haired elf sighed as he looked down at his hands, then up at the blond next to him.

"They say we are supposed to be together." Erestor's voice was calm and nonchalant.

"Don't I know it?" came the deep reply from his friend. Glorfindel shifted to rest more comfortably against the tree, knowing the advisor was not through with his speech.

"Because you are light and I am "dark". In our looks and behavior. You are carefree and …flamboyant, outrageous and brave. I am – supposedly – sour and sad, and lonely."

"Well, you are sad."

Erestor's green eyes shot up inquisitively at the Balrog Slayer. "How is that?"

"Well" The blond smirked. "You just are. It's just sad how messy your hair always is, and you always look like you just woke up. But in truth I believe you just never go to sleep." The smirk broadened impossibly. "And I don't fault you for it. If I had a bed warmer like that, I wouldn't either."

The dark haired elf laughed. "He's not a bed warmer."

"Body warmer," both said in unison, nodding and casting lopsided grins as they looked at each other from the corner of their eyes.

"So, we are supposed to be together," Erestor continued. "Because you are the warrior and I'm the advisor. Because opposites attract and odd ends fit together."

"Odd ends do fit together," the warrior pointed out, and this time it was the advisor who smirked.

"Indeed."

There was silence for a few moments; both watched a bee fly about from flower to flower with that annoying little buzz before Glorfindel spoke again. "So, we are supposed to be together, and love each other"

"But it is not you who I love," the dark haired elf said finally.

"Same here," they smiled calmly. They knew that all too well. "I guess we are as meant to be together as Thranduil is meant to be seducing Elrond through love and hate tactics."

Erestor snorted and rolled his eyes at his friend's comparison. "Actually, they are together…but Elrond is the one seducing. Which is rather disturbing, don't you find?" He looked at the blond for signs of agreement, but he just saw a knowing smile on that face. "Oh Valar…"

"What can I do?" Glorfindel shrugged. "I have a thing for authority figures."

"Ha! Then I suppose wanking in front of a mirror is your favorite past time."

The Seneschal arched an eyebrow amusedly. "Thank you for acknowledging my position of authority with your words, but no. So, is your body warmer who you love?"

Erestor smiled and nodded briefly. "Yes, Lindir is the name."

There was another snort. The blond knew the figure well enough. "You mean the tailor that thinks he has some sort of musical talent?"

"Oh do not be nasty, Glorfindel!" The advisor frowned trying to hide his own smile. "I know he has no pitch, but moaning he sounds rather nice. And it's the only song I care to hear from him anyway."

"Well said."

There was some silence again, all they could hear was Glorfindel's fingers idly plucking patches of grass from the ground.

"So" The blond's eyes turned back to his friend as Erestor spoke again. "Who is your love?"

"Mine?" The Balrog Slayer smiled broadly. "Well you already know I fancy Haldir."

"Quite nice is it not? They both end with 'dir'," the brunette said.

Glorfindel rolled his eyes at his friend's slightly mystical words. "Is that supposed to mean something?"

"Sure, I just don't know what" the advisor teased, looking down at his hands, he traced the calluses and light scars over it; one of the downsides of having secret fancies for gardening. "Isn't it funny? I was supposed to be the bottom who likes the bigger warrior, and you were supposed to like the smaller, prettier one."

That comment made Glorfindel frown and think for a long while. "But you are not a bottom."

"Nope. Neither do you like the smaller one."

"Hey…" The blond scratched his ear "I am bigger than, Haldir."

Erestor pulled a face and shrugged. "If you say so."

"Hey! How would you know?" The question was suspicious but somewhat light hearted.

"I was not talking about that kind of size, Glorfindel."

Surprisingly, that made the blond dislike the idea even more. "You think he is bigger than me?"

"Well, what he lacks in size he substitutes with self confidence," the advisor nodded.

"Wait…"

"What, Glorfindel?"

"But Haldir is supposed to be the arrogant one. Shouldn't that mean that he really isn't?" The Balrog Slayer seemed rather confused by that. He did not find the Marchwarden arrogant at all; to him it was more the likes of vanity.

"Well, my dear friend…" Erestor snapped his fingers soundly, watching his friend flinch at the sound. "…not everything people think is wrong, you know. Otherwise we would just all be plain clueless."

"Yes, I suppose. It is true, Elladan and Orophin are together after all…and that's predictable."

"That's because they are predictable."

"Oh, right." Glorfindel nodded before his friend had a chance to expose – for the hundredth time – his theory of predictability from that couple, which supposedly started with the irrevocable fact of them being the middle children of their families; no extremes, no contrasts, just middle, average blandness. Erestor did tend to forget Orophin was the youngest, but it was better to leave it alone.

"By the way," the dark haired elf called out again. "Were you not supposed to love Ecthelion too?"

"Nah, he was a drunken brat."

A dark brow arched. "I hear tell it was quite the contrary."

"Oh well," the warrior shrugged. "We both were drunken brats. And like they say, equals don't attract."

"I believe it is quite the contrary they say"

Glorfindel shook his head vehemently "No, they say this, just phrase it differently."

"You are right." Erestor smiled and nodded. "Who are they by the way?"

"How am I supposed to know? People think that just because I supposedly spoke to a Vala I know the answers…"

"Now that I know you don't." Erestor shifted, stretching his legs and crossing his ankles.

Glorfindel imitated the posture, crossing his hands over his stomach and nodded. "Precisely"

From afar they could see Erestor's body warmer striding about with heavy rolls of fabric in his arms while being followed by a frantic elleth who waved her arms about demonstrating and instructing, probably on how she wanted her new dress to be like.

"He is red haired," the warrior affirmed as if enlightening his friend to new knowledge. "Lindir."

"Well yes…" Erestor found that remark quite idiotic. "His father was blond, and his mother was a brunette."

"That's not the only way to be red haired!"

"I know," the dark haired elf answered dryly.

"He has freckles too."

"Yes."

"Only on his face?" came the Glorfindel's eager question.

"Shut up." Erestor tried to hide a smile.

"Oohh he has it elsewhere too!"

There was a sound of something moving very fast – that being Erestor turning to face his friend squarely. "So, how is it that you want to know how many freckles my body warmer has but you have no idea if Haldir has so much as a mole somewhere between his neck and his toes?"

"Ah well…" The Balrog Slayer shifted uncomfortably. "I'm not good at that kind of seduction"

The advisor gasped outraged. "What do you mean you are not! I gave you hints myself!"

"No! Not that kind."

"Oh," Erestor paused a moment. "You are good at seducing, but not wooing."

"Is there a difference?" The blond's brows were disconcertingly creased although his eyes were paying attention to something else. A furious looking march warden making evil hand signs at Erestor's body warmer. Apparently he had been left waiting in Lindir's atelier with his sleeves hanging from his arms with white marking on where to be sewed, as well as a disturbing (to Glorfindel a rather attractive) tear on the crotch of his pants.

"Well, to me there is." The advisor straightened up, moving his hands from side to side as if it aided any in the explanation. "One is more like a one night stand seduction. The other is a long-time seduction, or a seduction that will have long term results."

"Ah, well, then I think you are right." The blond's eyes just would not leave Haldir…or his ripped crotch. "You know, perhaps I could use my one-night-stand seduction skills to make a cheesy comment on about his crotch, lead to a one night stand and hope my charms will ensure the long-term rest."

"That's rather risky," Erestoor warned. "Especially considering your charms."

"I know. But for the hell of it! I at least know we would look hot having sex. I think he will agree." Glorfindel preened himself and stood, adjusting his robes and running a hand through his golden hair.

Erestor sighed. "I do not doubt it. Shall we go then?" he asked, standing up as well and still eyeing the bickering going on between his freckled lover and Glorfindel's bulky intended. It would be rather nice to help Lindir vent the frustration later. He just had to make sure to keep the sewing needles away.

"Yes…yes, let's go." The blond smiled and took a deep breath, smelling success coming his way. As they walked over to the heated scene he remembered something that might have fit their conversation about what people deemed others were supposed to be.

"By the way, Arwen is supposed to be the most beautiful elleth ever, right?"

"Yes."

They snorted and went on their path.

The Eeeeend.


End file.
